


don't you dare look back (just keep your eyes on me)

by alotofthingsdifferent, folignos



Category: Hockey RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent, https://archiveofourown.org/users/folignos/pseuds/folignos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott likes kneeling for Crow. Mostly.</p>
<p>[A study of kneeling in six parts]</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't you dare look back (just keep your eyes on me)

**Author's Note:**

> more chatfic turned real fic! i wanted to get this up before round two started, but c'est la vie
> 
> we might revisit this ship, we had a lot of fun!
> 
> title from walk the moon's shut up and dance
> 
> find jay on tumblr [here](http://rraantasaurus.tumblr.com)! find amanda on tumblr [here](http://alotofthingsdifferent.tumblr.com)!

**one.**

Scott likes kneeling for Crow. Mostly.

It’s-- calming, for the most part, and he likes Crow well enough.

Mike was okay, in Rockford, but-- Scott doesn’t know. He was only okay.

Scott likes Crow because he’ll let him kneel even after losses. Not a lot of guys can bring themselves to do that, but no matter how many goals Crow lets in (or Scott, really), Crow always picks up the phone, always answers his hotel door. He never seems to mind if Scott falls asleep slumped against his knee, too, which happens more than is probably normal. It’s-- nice, Scott guesses. Professional. Scott appreciates it.

Game one against the Preds is-- well, it happens. Tazer looks like he’s going to pop a vein when he stands up during first intermission and asks if they want to throw this game away before it’s even started. Crow sits in the corner and says nothing, but he’s doing that thousand yard stare he’s so good at, and no one bothers him.

The crease feels about a million miles wide in the playoffs, Scott discovers very quickly. He pulls out the win, somehow, a combination of the team finally pulling their head out of their asses and Scott very nearly tearing his groin in half, but a win’s a win, and on the road, too.

Crow shakes him and hugs him and he’s about the happiest Scott’s seen him in a long time, pressing his forehead to his helmet and saying, ‘You’re a fucking _god_ , Darls.’  
-

Crow nudges him on the way out of the locker room. ‘How you feeling, rookie?’

‘Exhausted,’ Scott admits.

‘Wanna come by later? Let off some steam?’

‘I’ll let you know,’ Scott says, and goes back to tying his tie.

Scott does end up going, because it’s that or fend off Shawsy at the hotel bar for the next three hours, until one of his handlers decides it’s bedtime.

Crow’s wearing sleep pants by the time Scott changes out of his suit and heads down the corridor. He grins and steps aside to let Scott in. He goes to his knees just by the edge of the bed, where Crow’s Kindle is lying on the covers.

‘You can keep reading, if you want,’ Scott offers. It’s like that sometimes, Crow gets a hand in Scott’s hair and scratches at his scalp and lets him drift off while he reads his book.

‘Nah,’ Crow says, sits so Scott’s kneeling in the vee of his legs, and he leans forward, puts both hands on Scott’s scalp and scratches gently with blunt fingernails.

‘Ohhh,’ Scott says, softly. ‘Please do that _forever_.’

‘Keep playing like you did today, I’ll quit hockey and become your personal scalp massager,’ Crow says, grinning. ‘You were amazing out there, Darls. I’m so fuckin’ proud.’

‘Mm, was nothing,’ Scott says. Crow’s fingers are already putting him to sleep. He tilts his head a little so Crow will scratch at an itch he just discover. ‘The guys just woke the fuck up, was all.’

‘Bullshit,’ Crow says. ‘They left you out to dry in the third period. Some of those saves I couldn’t even have made if I wasn’t playing like shit.’

‘Being six six has some advantages,’ Scott says, sleepily.

Crow huffs out a laugh. ‘I guess it does.’ He presses his thumbs in just above Scott’s temples, and Scott sighs, content.

‘Honestly,’ he says, ‘I will pay you cash money to do this for the rest of my life.’

Crow laughs again. ‘You couldn’t afford me, Scotty.’

‘Shh,’ Scott says. ‘Your talking is interrupting my relaxing.’

Crow kicks him in the upper thigh gently, but he doesn’t stop scratching at Scott’s scalp gently until he dozes off, cheek pressed against the inside of Crow’s knee.

-

**two.**

Game two is. Rough.

Scott sits on the bench and watches it fall apart. Watches Crow’s shoulders sag with every third period goal.

He doesn’t talk to anyone in the locker room. Scott catches him out the way out of the door, belt undone, tie hanging around his neck. He touches Crow on the shoulder and doesn’t even get to open his mouth before Crow’s saying, ‘I’m sorry-- I can’t. Not tonight, Scotty.’

‘I wasn’t--’ Scott starts, but Crow’s already gone.

Scott paces in his own room for-- a while, probably. He ends up outside Crow’s room without even really meaning to, knocking quietly on the door.

Crow looks drawn when he answers. ‘Darls, I’m sorry, I just-- can’t.’ Scott holds up one of his hands, and Crow goes quiet.

'I'm not here to kneel.'

Crow looks up, confused. 'Then-- what?'

‘I wanted to make sure you were okay,' Scott says, rubbing at the back of his own neck and staring at his feet, unsure suddenly. 'It was a rough game.'

'Oh,' Crow says. When Scott looks up, he’s colouring a little.

'So. Are you?' Scott asks.

Crow blinks at him. 'Huh?'

'Are you okay?'

'Oh,' Crow says, and then he's taking a step back, waving Scott into the room. 'Yeah, I'm. Yeah.'

Scott knows him well enough to know that wasn't an answer.

'Wanna talk about it?' he asks, undoing his tie and leaving it around his neck loose. 'Or we could watch tv and not talk about anything. Or room service, I could eat an entire cow if you covered it in ketchup right now.'

That gets a faint smile, and Scott nudges him with his hip. 'Come on, Crow. dealer's choice. Food, emotions, or terrible payperview?'

'I'm not up for emotions right now,' Crow admits. 'But I could eat, and I get to pick the movie.'

Scott smiles and grabs for the room service menu.

They end up with a couple burgers and three plates of fries, which they inhale between the two of them. Scott clears the plates away and turns off the lights.

'We're not watching some sort of weird documentary, are we?' he asks, as he sits on the edge of the bed Crow’s not currently sprawled out on.

'Well, not if you're going to complain about it,' Crow says, but there's a faint smile there. Scott takes the win.

He ends up putting Die Hard on and shuffles back against the pillows. Scott joins him, pressing up against his side. Crow looks at him, confused.

'We're not kneeling,' Scott says. 'But I thought-- touching helps, sometimes, you know?'

Crow's cheeks go pink, but Scott feels him relax, shifting so they're pressed together shoulder to thigh.

'It was just one game, Crow,' he says softly. 'You'll get 'em in the next one.'

Crow laughs, but not the laugh Scott's used to. It’s ugly, kind of bitter. 'Hate to break it to you, Scotty, but you'll be in net next game.'

Scott shakes his head sharply. 'No way. It’s your net. One good game doesn’t make me the starter.'

'No, but a game like that might make me the backup,' Crow says, staring at his knees.

'It’s not your fault the guys left you out to dry again,' Scott says, pulling him in closer.

'I just-- six goals,' Crow says. 'I didn’t let in six goals all season, and now that they need me to stand up behind them, I couldn’t do it.'

Scott's doesn't know if he's doing the right thing, if he's breaking any rules, but at this point he'd do anything to erase the sadness from Crow's face.

He reaches out with tentative fingers and brushes Crow's hair back, scratching lightly at his scalp. 'If Q sits you, and that's a big if, it's not on you. It’s about sending a message to the rest of the guys.' Crow closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. 'Can't be Superman every night, Crow,' Scott says softly.

'Anything less than Superman is tradebait in this town,' Crow says, bitter.

'That’s not true and you know it,' Scott says, scratching a little harder. Crow leans into the touch.

'You gotta win the next game,' he says, looking up at Scott. 'When Q starts you, you gotta be as good as I know you are, Scotty.'

Scott knows better than to argue. 'Okay, man,' he says, and that's all that needs to be said. They fall asleep like that, Crow's head lolling onto Scott's shoulder. Scott slips out in the middle of the night, goes back to his own bed and tosses and turns for longer than he should.

-

**three.**

Q starts him the next game.

Scott _wins_ , and Crow comes tumbling off the bench to hug him, and they just stand there on the ice grinning while everyone comes and bumps helmets with Scott, trying to get around Crow.

'I’m so proud,' he says, when they’re filing off the ice. 'So proud, Scotty.'

'Hey,' Crow says, when they’re putting their suits on after the shower. ‘Come up to my room tonight, I owe you something.'

That sets the whole locker room off with catcalls and wolf whistles ('Someone’s getting _laid_!' Shawsy shouts, before Kaner punches him in the shoulder) and Crow flushes red, but Scott grins down at his shoes and finishes tying his tie.

He leans in close, bumping his shoulder against Crow's. 'You sure?'

Crow nods. 'Yeah, man. I need it too.'

He smiles warmly and squeezes the back of Corey’s neck. 'See you in a bit then.'

-

Scott gets ambushed on the way out of his room, teammates trying to drag him to the hotel bar, and he has to fend them off.

‘Sorry,’ he says, when he finally makes it up to Crow’s room, still in his suit. ‘Where do you want me?’

Crow sits at the edge of the bed, spreads his knees a little, like usual. His hand immediately goes to Scott's shoulder when he drops to his knees.

Crow told him once he doesn’t understand how Scott goes down so easy. ‘Raants kneels, sure, but he always looks like he’s a step away from doing something he doesn’t want to. They don’t have kneeling in the European leagues,’ Crow had told him.

‘I’ve knelt for a lot of guys,’ Scott had said, earlier in the season. ‘After the first couple, it’s not big deal.

Crow still looks like he doesn’t really get it, but he always smiles when Scott goes down.

He draws small circles on the side of Scott's neck with his thumb. Scott's looking at the floor, breathing steadily, like he always does for the first little while. He doesn’t expect Crow to speak.

'I'm so fucking proud of you, Darls. You were incredible.'

Scott colors and looks up, smiles. 'Couldn't have done it without your support, man,' he admits, turning his head to press his cheek against Crow's knee.

'Bullshit you couldn’t,' Crow says. 'You're amazing. Some of those saves I wouldn’t have had a chance in hell.'

Scott looks down again, and that’s when Crow kisses him, right on the crown of his head.

'That's uh, that's new,' Scott admits. His cheeks are so warm, but he keeps smiling up at Crow.

Crow laughs softly, tilts Scott's chin up with two fingers. 'Okay?'

Scott nods, eyes never leaving Crow’s. 'Very okay.'

Crow kisses his forehead, too. The bridge of his nose. The arcs of both cheekbones.

He hovers over Scott's lips for a few seconds. Scott’s tongue darts out, wets his lower lip.

'Is this-- can I--' Crow stops and starts, face inches away.

Scott leans up the last couple of inches and kisses him, gentle, chaste.

Crow curls his hand around the back of Scott's neck, angles his head so their mouths slide together.

Scott feels his tongue pressing against Crow’s lower lip. He pulls back suddenly. 'Uh,' he says. 'Sorry. That was-- inappropriate of me.'

'Wait. You've never--?' Crow asks. He’s leaning over, hand still cradling Scott’s head.

Scott looks up at him, surprised. 'You have?'

'Antti. His first shutout last year. There was-- we had a lot of vodka.’ Crow laughs faintly.

'Oh,' Scott says. ' I thought-- this isn't how it goes, normally.'

Crow shrugs. 'It's different for everyone, I guess? I mean--we don't have to,' he says quickly. 'That's not what I'm saying, I'm good with this,' he says, waving a hand between them. 'With just this.'

Scott rubs his beard along the side of Crow's knee. 'I am too,' he says, 'but...'

Crow threads his fingers through Scott's short hair. 'But?' he asks, quiet.

'I really wanna kiss you again,' Scott admits.

'Then you should get up off your knees,' Crow says. 'I, uh, I don't want you to feel like I'm in this much control.'

Scott grins, and climbs to his feet. 'I don't mind you being in control,' he admits, planting a knee next to Crow’s hip. 'But whatever makes you comfortable,' he says and bends down to kiss him again, bold.

Crow lets Scott lick into his mouth and cup his face in his hands while he fists his hands in Scott's shirt. Scott slowly moves forward until Crow’s on his back and Scott’s straddling his hips easily.

'Proud,' Crow whispers, between kisses, 'So proud of you, Scotty.'

'Wouldn't be here without you,' Scott says, pulling away to nose along Crow's jaw.

'Sure you would,' Crow says. 'I'm nothing special.'

'Don't,' Scott says, and he's half-tempted to kneel again, just to get his attention. 'You got this team here, Crow. we wouldn't be here without you.'

'I didn't-'

Scott moves off the bed and drops to his knees, and Crow's breath hitches. 'You _did_ ,' he says. 'I know I haven't been here for long,' he continues, pressing kisses to the inside of Crow's knee. 'But this team loves you. You do so much for this team, you carried them on your damn back to the playoffs the last couple months, you can't see that?' He runs his palms up Crow's thighs. 'You're so important to this team, Core, and it's not your fault they dropped you last game.'

Crow pulls Scott to his feet and scoots back on the bed until he's against the headboard. he lets his legs fall apart. Scott thinks it’s an invitation. Hopes it is.

He pauses.

'Are you sure?' he asks.

Crow swallows, and nods.

Scott smiles, and starts unbuttoning his dress shirt, leaving it hanging off a corner of the bed, kneewalking up the mattress in just his undershirt. When he gets close enough to touch, Crow can't seem to help himself, running his hands across the planes of Scott’s chest, down his ribs, glancing past the sensitive spot just at the bottom of his ribcage.

He squirms.

'Ticklish,' he admits, colouring.

Crow grins, delighted, and does it again.

Scott laughs, ducking just out of his reach and swatting at his hands. He catches a wrist and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the soft skin. 'What do you want?' he asks.

'You,' Crow says, brutally honest, and that kind of blindsides Scott.

'Huh,' he says, and inches closer. Crow's wearing thin shorts and an old, faded t-shirt. Scott slips a hand between them and drags his palm up Crow’s chest so, so slowly, just skirting underneath the thin fabric of the shirt. Crow shivers.

Scott lifts the hem of the shirt carefully and ducks down, pressing light kisses all along his ribs. 'Love watching you on the ice,' Scott mumbles, licking a circle around Crow's navel. 'So fucking impressive.'

He lets out a breathy sigh and wriggles a little, lets Scott rid him of his shirt before he goes back to kissing over his chest carefully.

'Scott,' he murmurs, when he starts dropping tiny bites along the lines of Crow's collarbones. He's tenting the slippery fabric of his shorts and it's pressing into Scott's belly.

'Wanted to do this for a long time,' Scott says, sliding his hands down to Crow's waist and kissing at his hipbone, before dipping his fingertips under the waistband of the shorts.

His fingers brush the head of Crow's cock and he hears his breath hitch. He rolls his hips slightly, urging Scott on. 'Don't stop,' he says, breathless. 'Touch me.'

'Core,' Scott says, then wraps his hand around Corey's dick, stroking him slowly. He leans in and presses his lips to Corey's, bites gently at his lower lip when he whimpers.

Scott feels so big looming over him like this, one hand wrapped around his dick, the other planted on his chest. Corey's not a small guy by any means, but Scott feels like he's everywhere, just covering Corey with his body.

'Scotty,' Corey pleads.

'I got you, Core,' Scott whispers, dragging his beard over Corey's collar bone, twisting his wrist.

Corey falls silent after that, just these tiny hitching breaths as Scott coaxes his orgasm out of him, and a whimper when he comes all over his own belly.

Scott's still wearing his suit pants, his undershirt. Corey paws at his belt. 'You're wearing too many clothes,’ he complains.

Scott covers Corey's hands with his own. 'I didn't do this so you'd--'

'Shh,' Corey murmurs, easing Scott's zipper down. 'I want to. C'mere.'

He pulls Scott in, coaxes him onto his back, and jerks him off carefully and slowly, lips pressed to Scott's throat.

Scott comes almost silently, throwing his head back and arching his back.

Corey lies with him for a long moment, then kisses his temple and pads to the bathroom, returns with a warm washcloth. He cleans Scott up gently, which makes Scott's cheeks heat.

'I should be doing this for you,' he says, throwing an arm over his face.

'Shhh,' Corey says. 'You're my rookie.'

Scott pulls a face. 'I’m too old to be a rookie,' he says.

Corey kisses his temple again. 'Still my rookie.'

'I guess that's not the worst thing,' Scott admits, grinning, and pulls Corey in for a proper kiss. 'Can I-- would you-- can I kneel for you? Just for a little bit?' he asks, looking up at him.

‘Yeah. Yeah, of course, babe, whatever you need.' Scott blinks at the endearment, but lets Corey climb off him.

He sits at the edge of the bed and lets Scott kneel in front of him, hanging his head and taking deep, steady breaths.

'Babe?' he asks, when he’s been kneeling for a few minutes, feels a little far away with it.

'Sorry,' Corey says, flushing. 'Force of habit.'

'It's okay,' Scott says. 'I kind of like it, I think.'

They lapse into silence after that. Scott doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until Corey’s shaking his shoulder gently.

'Hey,' he says quietly. 'Scotty, hey, c'mon, let's get you to bed.'

Scott stands, rubs the sleep from his eyes. 'Sorry,' he says, and Corey grabs his wrist, tugs him towards the bed.

'For what? Falling asleep after I made you come?' Corey teases. Scott pulls a face at him.

'When you say it like that it sounds dumb,' he grumbles, and starts putting his shoes on.

'Are you--leaving?' Corey asks. He sounds-- confused. Scott doesn’t really know what to make of that.

'Yeah, I'm gonna go back to my room, get out of your way,' he says.

'Oh,' Corey says. 'Okay.'

When Scott gets to the door, he turns. 'Hey, Core,' Corey looks up at him. 'The net'll be yours again before this series is over.'

Corey huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. 'If it isn’t, I know you've got my back.'

Scott tosses and turns when he gets back to his own room, and can’t figure out why.

-

**four.**

Scott starts game four.

Scott wins game four.

He goes up to Corey’s hotel room, after the game. ‘Can I-- do you mind if I kneel tonight?'

Corey looks up, surprised. 'You still-- want to kneel?'

'Yeah?' Scott says, surprised. 'Is that-- a problem?'

'I just figured-- you're the starter now.'

'It's not my net,' Scott says. 'And I'm still the rookie here, Core.'

Corey studies him for a long moment, then nods, and Scott gets to his knees, silent, right there in the middle of the room

Corey stays standing, eyes locked on the top of Scott's head. 'You need to talk?' he asks softly.

Scott twists his lips. 'Dunno. Maybe.'

'Okay,' Corey says. He goes to get the chair from the desk and puts it down in front of Scott. 'Let me know? I'm right here.'

Scott nods. His eyes slide shut. He bows his head and just breathes.

He can feel Corey’s hand hovering over his scalp.

‘You can touch me, if you want.' Scott says, without even looking up.

He puts a hand on the base of Scott's skull and they both relax just a tiny bit.

He rubs the back of Scott's neck gently, fingers at his hairline, and Scott's shoulders sag, relaxed.

They haven't talked about the other night. Scott-- doesn’t know what Corey’s thinking about it. If he’s thinking about it. He said that he and Raanta had, but.

'I'm sorry,' Scott says, suddenly.

Corey grips the back of his neck, tugs until Scott looks up at him. 'What for?'

'I shouldn't have kissed you,' Scott says. 'I didn't mean to make things-- awkward.'

Corey's face falls. 'God, Darls, _no_ , I thought _I_  fucked up.'

Scott frowns, tilts his head. 'Why?'

Corey shrugs, scratching his nails along the back of Scott's head. 'You got out of here in such a hurry the other night--'

'I didn't want to overstep,' Scott interrupts. 'I wasn't sure if that was, uh. Okay.'

'It is,' Corey says, flushing.

'Oh,' Scott says. He straightens up a little. 'So, uh. If I kissed you again, that would be. Okay?'

'Get up here,' Corey says with a smile, and tugs until Scott's standing in the vee of his legs and bending down to kiss him stupid.

Corey stands up and coaxes Scott backwards toward the bed, easing him down onto it.

Scott's changed out of his suit this time, is wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and Corey just shoves the t-shirt up and out of the way to trail fingers and kisses down Scott's chest, thumbing at a nipple on the way past

Scott squirms. He can feel Corey smiling against his skin, and he reaches out and combs a hand through his thick curls. 'So good to me,' he says, softly.

'You deserve it,' Corey says. 'Wanna show you how good I think you are,' he thumbs at the dips near Scott's hip bones. 'Can I?'

Scott takes a breath.

'Okay,' he says, but tugs Corey back up for another kiss that makes them both breathless and a little desperate.

Scott's got his hands up the back of Corey's shirt, fingertips skating along his spine. he lets his hands come to rest on his hips, pulls them against his own so their cocks slide together.

'Fuck,' Corey breathes. 'Thought this was my show.'

Scott freezes. 'Sorry, yeah, it is, I shouldn't have--'

'It's okay,' Corey says. 'I don't mind bossy,' he winks at Scott, over exaggerated and absurd, and bursts into laughter. Scott’s surprised into barking out his own laugh.

'You're an odd one, huh, Core?'

'Goalie,' Corey says, and gets back to the business of removing Scott's shirt so he can trail his lips along the line of freckles that go across the tops of his shoulders.

Scott's hard beneath the slippery material of his shorts, but he's in no rush to get off. He's enjoying the drag of Corey's lips over his skin, the way he keeps mumbling praise into his neck.

He rucks Corey's shirt up, tugs it over his head and enjoys the way their skin slides together with the thin sheen of sweat on his chest.

He feels Corey smirk just before his fingertips jab into Scott's sides and he wriggles, slapping at his hands.

'You're an asshole,' he declares, rolling Corey easily and pinning him. 'You're not in charge anymore.'

Corey's eyes go hot and liquid. Oh, Scott thinks. Oh.

'Yeah?' Scott asks, and he rolls his hips slowly

Corey nods, licks his lower lip.

Scott pins Corey’s hands above his head and leans in to suck at his collar bone. 'I'm gonna blow you,' he says, and Corey swallows hard.

'Yeah,' he says softly, 'Yeah, Scotty, do it.'

He squeezes Corey's wrists carefully. 'These stay right here,' he says, and Corey nods.

Scott bites a trail of tiny bruises down Corey's chest before mouthing at his cock through the fabric. When he glances up, Corey’s wrists are crossed neatly and he's staring, unblinking, at Scott's mouth.

It makes Scott's own dick throb between his legs. 'Jesus, Corey,' he manages, reaching up to thumb at his bottom lip. 'Look at you.'

Corey's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and Scott has to look away. He turns his attention back to Corey's dick, tugging his shorts down and watching it bob against Corey's thigh.

Scott isn’t one to make sweeping comments about dicks. He’s aware that most junk in general is not that good looking. Corey's dick though, is slender and curves to the left a little and is this dusky brown just a shade darker than the rest of him, and, well, it’s fucking pretty is all.

He gathers the precome on a finger and sucks it into his mouth. Corey makes a strangled sound as Scott rubs his cheek along the length of it roughly.

When he closes his lips around the head, Corey arches his back.

He keeps his hands above his head.

Scott curls his hands over Corey's hips, holding his still as he bobs up and down on his cock. Corey whimpers, tossing his head to the side.

It doesn’t take Scott long to unravel him, turn him into a mess of whimpers.

'You look so good like this,' Scott says, kissing his hip. 'You gonna come for me, babe?'

'Yeah,' Corey breathes, thighs tensing, abs twitching. He looks fuckin’ incredible. 'Fuck, Scotty, yeah.' Scott runs the point of his tongue along Corey's slit and that's all it takes, he's coming all over Scott's lips and tongue.

Scott licks his lips, pulling a face. 'I always think it'll taste better than it does,' he says, swallowing.

'Sorry,' Corey breathes. 'I meant to warn you.'

Scott kisses the head of his dick, grinning when it makes him flinch. 'You’re okay, babe. I don’t mind.'

Corey reaches out, touches the side of Scott's face. 'That was fucking hot,' he admits, and Scott flushes and rubs his beard over Corey's hip.

' _You’re_ fucking hot,' he says, and Corey laughs.

'I'm okay,' Corey says. 'Can I get you back?'

Scott shakes his head. 'I’m good. Next time?'

'Next time,' Corey promises. 'You uh, you want to kneel?'

Scott shakes his head. 'I think I just want to sleep,' he says.

'Stay,' Corey blurts.

Scott laughs softly. 'I don't know,' he teases. 'Is that allowed?'

Corey flushes. 'I want you to,' he says. 'Please.'

Scott hums, but climbs into bed and wraps around Corey easily.

'We good?' Scott asks, just as Corey's drifting off.

'Hmm? Course we are,' he mumbles. 'Go to sleep.'

-

**five.**

Scott loses game five. Corey catches him in the locker room, after.

‘Come on, Scotty,’ he says, peeling his underarmour shirt off.

'I’m okay,' Scott says. He’s exhausted, doesn’t really have the energy to even talk.

'You sure?' Corey asks. 'You look like you need it.'

'I don't,' Scott snaps, and turns his back.

Corey stands behind him for a long moment, then lays his hand on the back of Scott's neck.

'Come to my room when we get back,' he says again.

Scott stiffens. 'I said I don't--'

' _I_ do,' Corey says. He knows Scott won't say no to that. Fuck.

Scott’s face twists. 'Fine,’ he bites out. Corey nods, neutral.

-

He turns up, face blank, shoulders tight. It takes him a long time to get to his knees.

When he does, he won't look at Corey. His jaw is clenched, fists tight at his sides. He just wants to do his time and go back to his room.

'The boys left you out to dry,' Corey says softly, and Scott huffs.

'I'm supposed to back them up--'

'They're supposed to protect you,' Corey corrects.

'I wasn’t good enough,' Scott argues.

'It’s not your fault.'

'Three goals in less than three minutes. I’ve gotta have those.'

'You also have to have your d-men backing you up. None of those goals were your fault.'

Scott doesn't say anything, just hangs his head. Corey doesn't talk for a long time, but he does card his fingers through Scott’s hair.

'Told you you'd have your net back,' Scott says dully, after about twenty minutes.

'Our net,' Corey says. 'It’s not just mine.'

'You’re the starter,' Scott says. 'It’s your net.'

Corey bends down and presses his forehead to Scott’s. 'And I’m giving part of it to you. You deserve it, Scotty. Without you, we’d be looking at a best case scenario of forcing seven games.’

'Should've closed it out tonight,' Scotty says, and Corey cups his jaw in one hand, a gentle grip.

'Listen to me. It was one game. We're still in it, the guys are gonna fight for it. Stop. Putting this. On yourself.'

Scott laughs softly. 'Like you wouldn't be?'

'That’s different,' he says, running his thumb over the line of Scott's jaw. 'People expect things of me. You're so new, no one expects you to play like you have been.'

Scott opens his mouth to argue, but Corey keeps talking. 'It was five minutes. You were amazing tonight. You can’t let that bad five minutes rock you in the net.'

Scott gets up. 'I can’t do this tonight. I’m gonna-- I’m gonna go.'

'Scott--' Corey starts, but he’s already shutting the door behind him.

-

**six.**

Scott gets the game six start.

When he's pulled, Corey meets him on the ice, claps him on the helmet, pulls him in. 'Not on you, babe,' he says, and Scott's quiet.

Corey’s just about to head for the net when Scott reaches out with his blocker and hits him in the shoulder. ‘Go get ‘em,’ he says, quietly, and heads for the bench.

Scott almost falls off the bench when Duncs scores. He looks over to Corey and sees him sag in the net, just a little. ‘Come on, Core,’ he murmurs. ‘Four minutes.’

He does it. Of course he does it.

Scott pours onto the ice with the rest of the team and hits Corey like a train, wrapping his arms around him.

'You’re so amazing,' he says 'I’m so fucking proud, Core.'

'We fucking did it, man,' Corey says, their helmets still pressed together. ' _We_ did it.'

Jonny's crashing into them, his arms wrapped around both of them, going on about how proud he is, how the team owed them, how fucking _happy_ he is.

'You're so fucking incredible,' Scott says, and then they have to pull away and let the rest of the team congratulate Corey, but Scott hovers, watching Corey beaming out from behind his cage.

‘Can I come over tonight?' Scott asks, in the locker room.

'You want to kneel?' Corey asks him, twisting to get the very last buckle off his leg pads.

'No,' Scott says, and won't say anything else. He grins to himself, turning away to grab his towel.

-

Scott knocks on the door gently. It takes Corey long enough to answer that Scott worries that he’s fallen asleep. He’s wearing ratty sweats when he does answer, and he looks up at Scott, shy.

'Hey,' Scott says, softly, and leans down to kiss him gently.

Corey grabs him by the suit jacket and tugs him into the room, their mouths still connected. The door closes behind them and Scott spins them, getting Corey up against the wall.

He boxes him in easily, one hand framing his jaw, the other curled around his hip, holding him still.

'You were so good tonight, Corey. Knew you would be.'

'We wouldn't be here without you,' Corey starts, and Scott shushes him.

'We're not talking about me tonight. This is about you.'

Corey swallows and lets Scott nose at his throat, rub his beard over the thin skin there.

'Gonna take you apart, Core,' Scott mumbles, biting at Corey's earlobe. 'That okay?'

Corey nods, silent. Scott kisses the earlobe he just bit, and backs off, undoing his tie, sliding his jacket off and hanging it over a chair.

'Bed,' he says, unbuttoning his shirt. Corey sprawls across the bed and watches Scott strip slowly. He makes a soft, complaining sound when Scott keeps his underwear on.

'Not yet,' Scott says, climbing on the bed.

Scott slides his hands up Corey's legs, starting at his ankles, up over his knees, this thumbs pressing gently into the creases of his thighs.

He hooks his fingertips in the waistband of Corey's sweats and eases them down. Corey squirms a little.

He drags the sweats all the way down, tosses them on the floor. Corey's not wearing underwear, is already half-hard. Scott wraps a hand around Corey's dick and jacks it a couple of times, until Corey's biting at his lip.

'Can I fuck you?' Scott asks, low.

'Yeah,' Corey says, and his voice is a little shaky, like he doesn't trust his own voice.

'Hey,' Scott says, leaning down to pepper kisses along the insides of Corey's thighs. 'I don't have to.'

'No,' Corey says, cheeks going pink. 'I want you to, I just-- it's been. A while. Since-- the last time I did that.'

'i'll be careful,' Scott promises, and climbs off the bed. 'You got stuff?'

Corey flushes, and shakes his head. Scott leans over and kisses him, and throws his suit pants back on. 'I'll be right back,' he says, pulling a t-shirt from the floor over his head, one with CRAWFORD 50 on the back.

He's only gone a few minutes, but Corey's literally caught with his dick in his hand when Scott comes back in.

'Couldn't wait for me, huh?' Scott says teasingly, then strips down again. This time he ditches the underwear too, and he watches Corey suck his lower lip between his teeth.

'You like what you see?' Scott jokes, and climbs back on the bed, nudging Corey's legs apart.

He nods, gaze flicking from Scott's face to his cock to his hand, holding the small, half empty bottle and a foil packet.

'You sure you're okay with this?' Scott asks, gently. 'Because it's cool if you're not.'

Corey shakes his head 'I want it.' He pauses. 'I want you.'

Scott flushes and leans in for a kiss. 'Roll over,' he whispers, and Corey goes, lays on his stomach until Scott pulls gently at his hips, guiding him up on to his knees. He lays open-mouthed kisses along the dip of Corey's lower back as he slicks up his fingers, teases them into him until he’s whimpering and pushing back against his hand.

'Scotty,' he says, quiet and soft and a little frantic. ' _Scotty_.'

'I got you,' Scott says, nipping at the meat of his ass with his teeth playfully. 'I got you, Core.'

He adds another finger, scissors them slowly until Corey's arching his back and trying to fuck himself on Scott's fingers 'I'm ready,' Corey says. 'Scotty, I'm ready, please.'

Corey pillows his head on his forearms and closes his eyes when Scott slides the length of his dick between Corey's cheeks. Scott puts a hand in the hollow of Corey’s back to steady himself.

'Okay?' Scott says quietly, but Corey doesn't answer, just pushes himself back on to Scott's cock, groaning when just the head slips in.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Corey says, freezing. Scott has his other hand on Corey's thigh, can feel him trembling. He pushes in another couple of inches, maddeningly slowly, and Corey can feel something building in the pit of his belly. 'Don't _stop,_ ' he says, arching his back to change the angle a little, and then sucks in a breath.

'There,' Corey says, pushing his hips at Scott. 'There, do that again, _fuck_.’

Scott fucks in again, and then again, does exactly what Corey tells him to do, and before long Corey's crying out, coming untouched all over the sheets beneath him.

Scott's kind of amazed that he can do that to him, scatters kisses all over the parts of Corey he can reach, and keeps fucking in until he comes, Corey whimpering beneath him, oversensitive.

He pulls out slowly, kissing Corey's shoulder as he goes, and smooths his palm over Corey's ass. 'Stay put,' he says softly.

'You're too far away,' Corey complains, when Scott goes to throw the condom in the bin and get a washcloth.

'You're so needy,' Scott chides, but he climbs up onto the bed and throws an arm over Corey's waist, stroking up and down his back.

'You're amazing,' Scott murmurs in his ear. 'You were so good today, Core, _so_  good.'

‘Gotta keep it going,' Corey mumbles. 'Wild's gonna be tough.'

'I believe in you,' Scott says. 'And if you stumble, I'm right behind you, babe. always.'

Corey hums, and smiles, and then he's gone. Scott kisses the skin behind his ear and settles in to nap easily.


End file.
